


Head + Desk

by bleeeeeeep



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (I hope), Awkwardness, Fantasizing, Frustration, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Thinking, cuteness, maybe somewhat out of character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 00:36:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4283967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleeeeeeep/pseuds/bleeeeeeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has a crush on Potter and he's just not himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. nope nope nope

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to be kind of funny and pensive, but I don't know if it worked.

_Oh bloody fuck._

He had managed to spill pumpkin juice all over his Auror robes again for the fourth morning in a row. This daydreaming thing was getting way out of hand.  But it was so hard to stop once Draco’s mind had started wandering towards thoughts of his newly appointed boss.

Merlin, why did they have to send Potter to his department?  And what the fuck was _Harry Potter_ doing in bleeding bureaucracy, anyway?  More importantly, why did he have to look so amazing every morning?

Ruffled black _sex_ hair, the softest looking red lips, innocent emerald green eyes hidden under long lashes, and god, the way his cheeks were always blushing pink with heat from _almost_ being late.  His chest always heaved a little when he was trying to catch his breath.

As soon as the blush faded, Draco always wanted to make it reappear.  Perhaps a good snog in Potter’s office would do.  Trapping Potter between him and the door and kissing him until he was weak at the knees with no choice but to balance himself on Draco’s arms. Or perhaps, Potter would see him coming and have a trick up his sleeve.  A perfect one to pin him to the ground between strong thighs, tear off his pumpkin juice soaked robes, and make him beg for mercy.

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

He’s dropped his treacle tart on the ground this time.  And what’s more is that these thoughts were distastefully cheesy.  Draco tried to stay away from the image Lucius had left behind, but certain unspoken rules remained as they were.  It was a sense of pride more than anything else. Malfoys are not supposed to have cheesy thoughts.  Except he couldn’t think of any creative places to have sex with his former nemesis right now. He shouldn’t be _trying_ to think of creative places to have sex with Potter right now.

_Thank goodness for robes and Friday._

“Do you need another treacle tart? I’m about to go buy myself one.”

Draco looks up to find his six-foot-tall crush blinking at him with those damn green eyes and knocks the remainder of his pumpkin juice all over the bloody report he’s been trying to finish all morning.  Salazar, save him.

“And another cup of pumpkin juice? Maybe one with a sealed lid, this time?”  Potter has this annoyingly cute smile on his face as he offers.  It does not help with Draco’s problem.

“No!” he snaps.  “Just get out, Potter.”

“Fine.  I was only trying to be nice.  You don’t have to be so rude.”

As soon as Potter closes the door, Draco practically slams his head into the desk.  Curse his ability to ruin chances of even being friendly with cute Head Aurors.  Especially ones that offered to buy him sweets and juice.

It was so clichéd, this whole thing. Crushing on his employer. Crushing on Harry bloody Potter. Everybody had a fucking thing for Potter.  And now he was part of that ‘everybody.’  This would amount to nothing, but disaster.

He stayed there with his head on the desk for goodness knows how long. 

“You’re getting pumpkin juice in your hair, you know?”  FUCK. His hair!  Draco sat up so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. Why can’t he seem to catch a break today?

Before he could respond, Potter placed a new, unsoiled treacle tart on his desk along with a sealed cup of pumpkin juice and left.  Draco cursed stupid Potter and his stupid niceness.  And then, after he ran to the loo to fix his hair (because _priorities_ ), he cursed himself for smiling about it.

Needless to say, well, no, it’s important because Draco never behaves like this, but after he cursed himself, he didn’t stop smiling.  Even Weasley, of all people, thought something was wrong with him and he was the most oblivious person _ever_. (Except for Draco, but we’ll get to that later.)

At about seven o’clock in the evening, he heard a voice say, “Malfoy, are you okay?”  Weasley was giving him the arched eyebrow.

“Yes.  Why?” Draco was confused why he’d be showing concern all of a sudden.

“You’re smiling.”  He actually looked somewhat nervous.

“Is there something wrong with smiling?” Draco asked.  He honestly hadn’t realized that he’d been grinning all day.

“No, but you never smile.” Weasley frowned and furrowed his brows.

“I'm fine, Weasley.  You can stop looking like the world’s about to end now.” 

“Okay.”  He walked off just as awkwardly as he’d approached.

Oh, bloody Potter.  Not only had he gotten pumpkin juice in his hair, but he looked happy all day, too.  Maybe the world was coming to an end.

Until then, he had work to finish. There was a case of stolen Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans that needed tending to.  Apparently, somebody stole all of the pumpkin pasty flavored ones, which were, ironically, his favourite.  That made this an even more serious matter than it was already.

Just as he was about to open the file, he heard another voice.  An upbeat, sexy voice that he did not need to hear at the very moment. “For the record, I think cheeriness suits you.”  Of course Potter would ruin his concentration.

Today’s efforts at being productive would prove to be fruitless, wouldn’t they?

“Thanks, Potter,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on the cream coloured folder in front of him. Inwardly, he was just about to burst with joy.  Or whatever the Malfoy equivalent to that is.

Goodness, what was it about Potter that had him so riled up?  It was like everything the man did made him behave like the fumbling teenage boy he never was when they were in school.  It was infuriating.  Half of him wanted to push Potter into bed and ride him for all he was worth. The other half wanted to hide under a table at the thought of doing something so bold.

If it was anybody else he wanted, he would flirt and tease relentlessly.  With Potter, he felt _shy._ And it was weird.

And he was distracted from his work again. There was a jellybean thief to catch and the issue was becoming more and more urgent by the second. Who would even do such a thing?

It was too late to go around asking questions now.  The sweets shops were closed, which meant he wouldn’t be able to buy Chocolate Frogs either.

Draco sighed and packed up his things, including the uneaten treacle tart that had been set on his desk hours ago.  That would be his dessert tonight.

Without further delay, he Apparated back to his gorgeous flat.  At least, he could take comfort in that. 

It wasn’t enormous like the Manor, but it suited him.  Mahogany floors he could walk barefoot on, black granite counters in the kitchen, and furniture he could change when he pleased. This month, it was black suede that covered his sofa.

The biggest comfort of all, though, was his bed.  Soft enough to sink into after a long day, but firm enough not to get swallowed by it. It was just what he needed for a well-deserved wank (and a good night’s sleep) after his clumsiness-infused day.

Without dinner or his dessert, he headed into the bathroom for a nice, hot shower.  If he was hungry later, he could Conjure something or order takeaway.

 _What the fuck has gotten into me?_ Draco thought, as he lathered up his hair.  Merlin, the smell of this shampoo was fantastic and it made his scalp tingle.  _How did I not know how fantastic eucalyptus and spearmint smell together sooner?_ Yes, the scent of bathing products was what he was resorting to for distractions now.  _I_ _’m going to drive myself insane, aren_ _’t I?_

That was a rhetorical question nobody should ever try to answer.  He let the water wash all of the ridiculousness out of his mind, all of the day’s mishaps and over-thinking.  _It_ _’s just a crush. Everybody gets crushes. Even Malfoys.  I_ _’m only human._ Funny how the manifestation of his liking for Harry Potter made him realize that his surname didn’t make him an exception for anything, really.

All of the rules he’d been told by his family and by himself up until that point were just things used to try to distinguish their family from everybody else.  Draco decided then and there, in the middle of his shower, that being Draco made him unique enough.  Stupid rules didn’t matter and even if they did, he _loved_ breaking rules.

Just like that, his frustration washed away.  Not the stuff about wanting Harry Potter, but the part where he was upset with himself for his reaction to the Boy Who Lived being the man he wants to be shagged senseless by.

As he watched the soapy water spiral down the drain, Draco felt refreshed.  He picked up the bottle of body wash and lathered up, starting with his arms. There wasn’t much dirt to wash away considering he hadn’t done much at work, but it was calming to get bubbles all over himself.  He liked rinsing them away and feeling squeaky clean afterwards.

After the water ran clear, he stepped out of the bathtub and reached for a towel, feet not leaving the bathmat. Slipping on droplets of water was not something he wanted to do.  He dried himself off, letting the soft fabric brush over his skin.

Once dryness was achieved, it was onto his moisturizers and drying his hair. Only then could he climb into bed and dream about Potter.  The thought of letting his mind wander and imagine when he finished his process had him speeding through his routine as efficiently as he could.

 _Finally_. He slipped on his favorite green silk boxers and crawled under the covers.  For a minute, Draco just stares at the ceiling. He lets his eyelids shut and imagines that Potter’s under the covers with him, broad chest warm against his back, nibbling that spot where the collar of his robes begins. 

_“You smell delectable, you know that?” Dream Potter murmurs against his skin.  He licks the spot he’s just bitten and lets his tongue trail lower until he’s just below Draco’s right shoulder blade.  There, he plants a kiss.  Harry breathes against his spine and rolls him onto his back._

Draco slides his thumbs underneath the waistband, pushing his boxers off and wraps a hand around his cocks.  It’s not quite hard yet, but a little more dreaming will get him there.

_He resumes where the trail down his spine left off on the muscle above Draco’s hipbones, leaving a bite mark on porcelain skin.  Potter slithers up his body to kiss him.  The first one is a soft brush of lips._

He uses his thumb to spread the leaking pre-cum around as lubricant. There isn’t enough, so he reaches for the jar beside his lamp.  After Draco gets himself slick enough, he gives an experimental tug.

_The second kiss is a little longer. Harry licks the space where his lips meet, asking for permission to slip his tongue inside. Draco lets him and he discovers that, Merlin, he knows how to kiss.  He stops counting how many times their mouths meet after that._

_Warm lips make their way down his chest to his nipples.  Potter gives the left one an experimental nip before soothing it with his tongue.  He laps at the skin while his right hand tries to mimick the actions on the other one with pinching and rubbing._

He bucks into his right hand as his left is torn between clenching the sheets and playing with his now hardened nipples. Draco was too good at fantasizing for his own good.

 _Dream Draco_ _let out a whimper that made lust-filled green eyes look up at him._

And that’s all it took for Draco to come.  Piercing green eyes.  They told him that Potter wanted him just as badly as he wanted _Harry_.  That’s all he needed before falling asleep peacefully.

 

 

The next morning, Draco woke up promptly at six o’clock without alarms to find himself entangled in a mess of sheets, underpants, and bodily fluids he hadn’t bothered to Scourify before falling asleep.  The surprising part of this is supposed to be that he wasn’t even mad. Everything could be dealt with through a simple wave of his wand.

However, the infuriating bit was that it wouldn’t have happened if not for his bloody crush on Potter.  Potter, Potter, Potter.  That’s all he managed to stay focused on.  Screw the jellybean thief!  Nopenopenope.  Potter just had to take over his mind.

In fact, Draco was so preoccupied with thoughts of _Harry_ that when he went to roll out of bed, he rolled onto the floor instead of landing on his feet. “Fuck.”

After his morning routine of brushing his teeth and other things that did not involve Potter, a dressed Draco Malfoy went to the café downstairs for breakfast.  Cooking always made him smell like food for the rest of the day and that just didn’t go with the scent of his body lotion.

“Earl Grey and a full English breakfast without black pudding, please,” he ordered.

As he was handing the menu back to the waiter, there was a “Mind if I join you?” that made his head whip around.

“Sure, why not?”  Of course Potter had invited himself to his table for his breakfast on his precious Saturday. Here he was, trying to stay under the radar and failing miserably at it.  “What brings you to this neighbourhood, Potter?”

“Please, call me Harry,” Draco just blinked at him.  He smiled and continued, “Well, I was looking for you actually.” 

Draco had the sudden urge to faint, but he recollected himself. “And why, pray tell, were you looking for me?”

Potter actually flushed for a second before biting his lip nervously. “I need your help with something.”

“The great Harry Potter is asking for help from little old me?” It brought a smirk to Draco’s face, despite his stupid teenage-girl-ish crush.

The awkward smile Potter had on his face turned into a frown. “Well, if you’re going to act like a prat about it, then forget I said anything.”  He got up to leave just as quickly as he’d shown up.

Draco mentally slapped himself.  “Wait!”  A hopeful look found its way to Potter’s eyes.  “I’ll help you.”

Harry sat back down.   “I… needyoutocomeshoppingforclothes with me.”

Draco slapped himself again.  This time, he actually did it.


	2. underpants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yup. Draco's a mess.

It wasn’t so much that he had a problem going shopping with Potter.  He’d love to spend more time with him.  The problem would be keeping his hands to himself whilst they were shopping. Draco is, after all, fairly certain that his boss would not appreciate being manhandled as he tried on clothes.  (Oh, how wrong we know he is.)

“Are you okay?” He looked up to find very concerned, gorgeous green eyes.  They were surrounded by black frames, ones that made him look all the more adorably worried.  He managed to nod. “You don’t have to come if it’s too much trouble.”

“But I want to!” Draco blurted hastily.  He flushed and continued, “It’s just that I don’t know if you’ll like what I pick.  We don’t dress all that similarly _._ _” Of course he’d like what I pick. My taste is fucking fantastic._  However, feigning a lack of confidence was a lot easier than telling Potter the real reason.  Most people, Draco thought, don’t really want to be begged for a good fuck in the fitting room.

Then, Potter said something that would’ve made his jaw drop to the ground if his food hadn’t arrived.  “I trust you. I trust your taste, I mean.” Then, he proceeded to order, coffee, toast, and scrambled eggs. “You can start eating without me. None of those things are going to taste very good once they get cold.”

“But your food hasn’t arrived yet.  It’d be rude.”  Despite his embarrassment a moment ago, he hadn’t forgotten the manners that had been ingrained in his being.

“That’s quite alright.  I’ll just watch you eat,” Harry chuckled.  “Mine will arrive soon enough.”

Draco gulped and flushed some more.  “Please don’t observe as I chew.”

It brought an even bigger grin to that handsome face.  “I was only kidding, silly.”  Goodness, as cheesy as it sounded, Draco thought he could stare at Potter’s smile forever.  “Now come on, enjoy your breakfast.”

The first bite of tomato he took was somewhat hesitant.  Then, it reminded him of how he’d forgone dinner in favor of wanking.  It was worth it and now he was hungry.  Draco doesn’t scarf down meals, but all tentativeness was lost rather quickly. Thankfully, Potter’s order arrived shortly after he’d started.

He slowed down a little to watch the way Potter ate.  It was charming the way he buttered his toast all the way to the edge, looking pleased at the bread before taking a bite. The way he ground pepper over his eggs, making sure to tilt the machine as a way of controlling the size of the grind.  Draco especially loved the way the pink of his tongue contrasted against the silver fork as it crept between his lips to lick remainders of egg.

  _Now if only he’d lick me that way._   He would have sighed if it hadn’t been for the bacon in his mouth.  As they ate in silence, enjoying their respective meals, a question came to Draco’s mind. “How did you manage to find me here?”

“I was strolling by.  I thought I’d try your flat, but on my way there, I saw you sitting down.” Suddenly, Potter leans across the table to wipe his face with a napkin.  “Sorry.  You had a spot of sauce from the baked beans on your face.”

He just blushes even more and mumbles a ‘thank you.’  _Merlin, how am I going to make it through the day like this?  I can’t survive if Potter just gets cuter and cuter by the second. But it’ll be even weirder if I keep sitting here having inner monologues._ “I’m glad you did.”  Draco manages a shy smile.

His small gesture made Harry’s face light up.  Draco kept forgetting that Harry had asked to be called by his first name, but _Potter_ had been in his mind for so long that it was hard to stop.  First, it was used out of disdain.  Then, it was just habit.  Now, he was someone he thought of affectionately. He felt special being the only one at work that just called him Potter, not out of formalities, but because it was _his_ thing.  Potter, Potter, Potter.

They finished breakfast peacefully and to Draco’s surprise, Potter took the small clipboard the bill had been attached to.  “You’re doing me a favour.  The least I can do is buy you food.”  He just had to smile a little and all thoughts of protest left Draco’s mind.

When he came back, Draco was still in a daze.  His boss had just bought him breakfast and they were about to go shopping together.  What snapped him out of it was a poke on his nose.  For fuck’s sake, even Potter’s methods of getting his attention were cute.  “Still alive in there?”

“I should hope so.”  _I’d hate to die before getting to see you half dressed in clothes **I picked.**_ He pushed his chair out a little and stood up, ready to leave.  “What kind of clothes are you looking for?”

Potter thought for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows in the most adorable way before shyly saying, “Every kind.”  Draco arched an eyebrow.  He had no complaints, but surely, Potter had to have _some_ clothes.  “You see… Kreacher was doing the laundry one day even though I told him not to and the portrait of Walburga Black told him to ‘burn the dirty half-blood’s things,’ so he did and now I have no clothes except for the stuff that was still clean which… isn’t much.”

“That wasn’t very nice of her,” Draco said.  _I should thank her later,_ he thought.  “Where do we start?”

“The essentials, I suppose.  I need boxers and pyjamas.  Thank goodness I keep my Auror robes at work,” Potter shook his head and rubbed his temples as they left.

For those, Draco liked a shop called Expecto Patronads*(see note at the end of this chapter), despite its name.    It was only a few blocks away from the café, so they walked, chatting along the way. 

He liked this side of Potter.  Up until that point, the crush had been focused on things he did or the way he behaved and breakfast made Draco realize that he really didn’t know much about Harry.  Aside from the Voldemort related stuff, treacle tarts, and his friendship with Weasley and Granger, there wasn’t much else.  He had to ask the one thing that had been lurking in his mind since Potter showed up at his job a month ago.  “What made you decide to take the position of Head Auror?”

Harry hesitated for a second before answering.  “They asked me and I suppose I could’ve refused, but I just thought… better me than some guy who wants to work his way up the food chain, right?  I like seeing the bad guys get caught and I like helping to do it.”

It was a deeper answer than he had expected, which made him fall for Potter a little more.  _Bloody Potter and his bloody noble intentions. I’m just going to keep falling,_ Draco mused.  At that moment, they arrived into a world of underwear Draco was sure would fit Potter’s needs.  “Salazar, what is this place?”

Shy, pining Draco disappeared for the time being.  They were on his turf now.  “This, dear Potter, is pants heaven.” Before he could begin to show him around the place (and yes, he knew this place quite well), Potter ran off.

“I have to have these!  And these!  And these!” he shouted, holding up three pairs of boxers – one in navy blue covered in Golden Snitches ( _of course)_ , a pair of green ones that had pumpkins on them, and a black pair printed with treacle tarts. Draco knew then that he was shopping with a five year old.  A gorgeous six-foot-tall man who was _only_ mentally five years old that he would love to see in any pair of those.

He let himself laugh.  “You don’t see me stopping you now, do you?  Have your pick!  It’s your money, isn’t it?”

Potter shot him a fake pout and quivered his lower lip a little bit. “You – you –you mean, you’re not buying these for me, daddy?”  He gave up the act after ‘daddy’ and burst into chuckles.

Draco stopped himself from blushing at the word that associated to a particular kink of his.  _Merlin, you’re going to be the death of me_. _I’d call you ‘daddy’ in bed if you wanted.  Okay, blondie, breathe.  Fucking breathe._

Potter went on to pick out white ones covered in strawberries (Draco’s favourite fruit), red ones printed with snowmen for the holidays, and more goofy ones he couldn’t keep track of before going for sensible looking underpants.  Those were his area of expertise.  Silk ones weren’t what Potter wanted, so they went for soft cotton ones that hopefully would not get set on fire by Kreacher again.

After an hour spent buying pants, it was time to shop for trousers and shirts. Draco decided a shop called Cloth would be the right place.  He liked the quality of things there. It wasn’t too expensive or too flashy and _more importantly,_ they’d let him go into the dressing rooms with Potter.

“Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy,” a silver-haired man greeted them at the door. “I see you’ve brought a friend with you this time.”

“Thank you.  Yes, this is my friend –” Draco found himself interrupted.

“Harvey, nice to meet you.”  Clearly, Potter didn’t want to be recognized.  His face even reddened a little as he ‘introduced’ himself.

“It’s funny.  You look a bit like Harry Potter,” the salesman tried to look a bit closer.

Potter just laughed nervously.  “Oh, deary me.  I get that all the time.”

“Right, we’ll ask you if we’re looking for anything.  For now, we’ve got a wardrobe to rebuild. Thank you,” Draco decided, dragging Potter away from the very, very curious man.

“Thanks,” he murmured once they were out of ear shot.

“You still don’t like being famous, do you?”  It was more of rhetorical question than anything else. He knew Potter hated the cameras and just about everything else that came with being a legend. Sometimes, people forgot that celebrities were human, too.  Potter just nodded.  “Come on, let’s find you some trousers.”

“Yes, let’s.  As much as I like my new pants, I’d rather not go everywhere dressed only in those,” he gave Draco a half smile as he said it.

_I would.  Salazar only knows what you’ve got under those robes._ “What do you think of these?” he asked, holding up a pair of fitted dark blue jeans.  Potter’s eyes widened a little.

“Um… they look a bit small.”  He was so bloody adorable when he became shy.  “Is it even going to fit one of my legs?”

“Don’t be silly.  Of course they’ll fit!  You trust me, don’t you?”  Draco finally felt comfortable enough to mock-pout.

“Fine… but you have to help me peel them off without laughing if they’re too tight.” 

It was Draco’s turn to gulp.  This shopping trip was really starting to test his resolve. _I mean, does he not understand how hard I’m trying not to beg for a fuck here?  Of course he doesn’t._

“I’m just kidding!  Don’t look so frightened.  I can remove my own clothes just fine,” Potter chuckled and when he was done, he winked. He fucking winked. Draco refused to believe what he just saw, so he pretended that it didn’t happen.

The two of them separated to look for items in different sections. Draco took care of the dressier clothes while Potter shopped for things he could wear to work and on days off. They met at the fitting rooms half an hour later. 

“Goodness, Malfoy!  Did you pick up one of every item in the whole store?  I can barely see your head over that pile!”

“It’s only four pairs of dress slacks, ten shirts, three sweaters, five cardigans, and two jackets.  I swear!” Draco blushed embarrassedly. Maybe he had gotten a little carried away.

“I supposed, it’s a good thing I only found three t-shirts and another pair of jeans then.”  Potter’s amused grin calmed his nerves.  “What should I try on first?”

“These,” Draco replied, holding up a pair of grey slacks and a white button up shirt.

The five minutes Harry spent putting them on were the longest five minutes of Draco’s entire life.  Including the time he spent waiting for Ollivander to bring him his first wand. He really wanted to be in the room, so much so that he almost whined, but that would not have been very dignified.

“Are you stuck or so-” his jaw dropped as Potter came out.

“Do I look okay?” Harry asked.  Then, he twirled.  He bloody twirled.  Nervously, but… Harry Potter fucking _twirled_ for him _._ Draco thought his heart would beat out of his chest. Just when he thought the jitters had left, Potter always did something to make them come back.

“Y-y-yes,” he stammered.  “We’re taking these.  Now go try on more.” _Before I have a bloody heart attack._ Never had Draco wished he were a pair of trousers until now. He wanted to be the one hugging Potter’s bum, stretching around those legs, feeling the hard muscle he’d only seen in his fantasies.  _Thank fuck for robes._ Yet again, they were saving his decorum.

The jeans that looked ‘a bit tight’ were next.  Nobody else’s arse or legs, aside from Draco’s own, could’ve looked better in them.  In fact, he decided Potter had to have the black ones, too.  And the battered light blue ones.  And green khakis that were made to fit the same. The only complaint Potter had was “I don’t want to take my trousers off anymore.”

They ended up leaving with two pairs of dress slacks, four pairs of jeans, the green khakis, all of the t-shirts, a jacket, two sweaters, three cardigans, and a jacket.  Draco had insisted on one of the sweaters because the emerald green matched Potter’s stupidly gorgeous eyes so perfectly he couldn’t stand it.

After Harry finished paying, Draco didn’t receive thanks for his aide. Instead, he got an “I’m bloody starving.”

So, he had to respond with, “Me too.  You’re buying.”  _This is as close to a date as I’m going to get, so… might as well, right?_ “I want pizza.  Lots of it.”

Potter let out his signature laugh again.  “No objections here.”

They found a small Italian place that was open for a late lunch around the corner and sat down.  The kind owner let Harry put all of his bags in their backroom, so nobody would have to sit on a very expensive pillow of new clothes.

There was a moment of silence where both of them were looking at the menu. Everything sounds delicious when one is hungry, so dilemmas were inevitable.  A waitress came around to take their order, both of them said simultaneously, “I’ll have the margarita pizza.”  She looked at them as if they’d both gone insane. Laughing maniacally didn’t help the case.

“It’s a classic,” Potter smiled after the bewildered lady left their table.

“Yes. You just can’t go wrong with it,” Draco smiled back.

That was the extent of the conversation throughout lunch because when their pizzas arrived, both of them were almost too busy eating to breathe, much less talk.

“Thank you” were the first words to leave Draco’s mouth  once his meal had been properly demolished.

“No, thank _you._   Seriously, I’d be going to work in my pants on Monday if you hadn’t helped me.  It’s definitely not something I’d ask Ron for help with and Hermione, she’d just yell at me for letting Kreacher do anything,” the sincerely grateful look Potter gave him made Draco’s heart flutter.  He didn’t even care about how hard he was crushing.  Potter being this _real_ with him was wonderful.

For the second time that day, he left the table to go pay for their meals. Unfortunately, it gave Draco time to ‘think,’ which is code for doubting himself.  _What am I doing?  I must be out of my mind falling this hard._

Good thing it didn’t take long for Harry to return to the table. “Ready to leave?”

Draco only nodded.  There was an awful lot of nodding between the two of them that day.

They picked up all of Harry’s new clothes upon leaving.  Since there wasn’t anything left that needed to be bought, Draco found himself wondering about what their next move would be. Much to his relief, Potter spoke first.  “Would you want to watch a film together?  I have to drop these bags off at home first, if you’d like to come with me.”

Without hesitation and much to his horror, “Of course,” flew out of his mouth.

“Just hang on while I Apparate us back.” 

Before he knew it, Draco found himself standing in the middle of Potter’s bedroom. It was too much to handle.

Potter shot him another smile, arms still full of things, and he just couldn’t resist.  Before he could set them down, Draco pressed their lips together lightly.  _Merlin, they’re softer than I imagined._   He sighed inwardly.

Then, before his bewildered crush could say anything, he ran down the stairs and bolted out the door.

_What the fuck did I just do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Expecto Patronads as a store name is my nod to Potter Puppet Pals. If you have not watched/heard of this brilliant puppet show, I suggest you google or go on youtube immediately.


	3. stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, Draco's an idiot.

For the next two weeks, Draco avoided Potter like he would avoid those blue Cornish pixies Lockhart let out their second year.  Every time, his boss would attempt at any sort of conversation with him that was not work related, his responses would be short until the Head Auror simply gave up.

It was always something like, “Draco, how –”

“I’m busy.”

“Fine.”

Sometimes, Potter would ask, “Hey, do you-”

“No.”

“Okay.”

There was always something he couldn’t place in Potter’s voice, but he didn’t want to try.  He thought he knew what Potter would’ve said anyway, if he let the conversation continue. _Well, I don’t need my bloody feelings spared with a ‘You’ve been really kind and all, but I don’t see you that way.’  Don’t give me that ‘There are plenty of fish in the sea’ shit._ He sighed for what must’ve been the millionth time that week.  _You’re the only fish I’d ever want to catch._ Draco shook his head as he packed his things to go home that evening.

It was the two-week anniversary of the Treacle Tart Incident. Funny enough, he found another one on his desk when he stepped in for work this morning.  He didn’t even have the heart to eat it. Perhaps it’d be his midnight snack or his breakfast.  _Who knows?_   At the moment, he didn’t even want to look at food.

All he knew was that it was time to give up on the jellybean thief, too. Other cases involving a former Death Eater selling cursed pumpkin pasties, a Potions addict threatening to eat children’s fingers, and streakers running around Hogsmeade had come his way in the past week.  _Who cares about pumpkin-anything? Not me._ With one last sigh, he Apparated home.

_What am I going to do with my-?_ His thought was interrupted as he heard a knock at the door not five minutes within arriving at his flat. Draco was so distracted he didn’t even think to ask who it was before opening the door.  Potter.  Stupid Potter and his stupid hair in all their glory at the door in the green sweater he loved.  He thought he’d never get to see it being worn.

“Am I allowed in?  I have a present,” Draco’s eyes moved from the sweater to the messily wrapped gift in Potter’s calloused hands.  Again, he nodded instead of using his words.

When the door closed, he took the gift and looked into those eyes he wished he’d see affection in.  “Well, go on. Open it.”  So, he did.

For the first time in his adult life, he tore it open.  Up until then, his presents had always been opened with care – cautiously removing the tape piece by piece, lovingly setting the wrapping paper aside before savoring the item someone had bought him.

There was a note on top of an enormous jar of pumpkin-flavored jellybeans. _You’re a bloody idiot._ That’s all it said.  Potter. Potter had been the thief he couldn’t find.  It was adorable, annoying, stupid Potter all along.  _He stole them for me._

Draco looked up hopefully; silently pleading he wouldn’t have to be the one to break the silence. 

“I like you, too.  You beautiful fool.”  Before he knew it, their lips were pressed together again.  This time, he wasn’t the one initiating contact. 

Draco Malfoy sighed for the last time that day when their lips came apart. He set the most romantic present he’d ever received down on the coffee table, threw his arms around _Harry’s_ neck, and kissed him like he’d wanted to if they had gone into the fitting room together..

“I am an idiot, aren’t I?” he murmured against soft red lips.

“Only if you don’t start kissing me again.”

They stood there - hands ruffling each other’s hair, tongues tangling together, making out like teenagers – until oxygen was absolutely necessary.

“Bed,” a low, hoarse voice rasped out.  It wasn’t clear who said it, not that it mattered.  They were both thinking the same thing. Draco didn’t even care what his hair looked like.  He just took Potter by the hand, practically dragging the willing man to his room.

The first thing Potter did was shove him onto his bed.  _Merlin, this is better than any of my fantasies._ He loved this.  Potter was so bold in how he wanted Draco.  He had always been confident in his looks, but attention like this made him _feel_ sexy. 

Potter winked like he’d done outside of the fitting room.  Then, he pulled the sweater over his head slowly, letting Draco watch as the fabric revealed olive skin stretched over taut muscles. _Fuck. He is good at taking off his clothes._ He was almost disappointed when the sweater was entirely off.  That part of the show was over.  “Like what you see?”  Bastard just had to be good at smirking, too.

Draco could only whimper.  “Wait until I show you how well I remove others’ clothes.”  His hands started on his belt.  The way he pulled it out of the loops of the jeans Draco had insisted on made him crave to be spanked.  What kept him from making a request was this strip show. Potter had begun shimmying out of his jeans revealing the strawberry print boxers they had bought together.

Despite strawberries being his favourite fruit, Draco Malfoy never despised them more than in that moment.  After all, fabric strawberries probably don’t taste good anyway and they were keeping Potter from being naked. 

When the jeans had finally been kicked to a corner of the room, Harry began crawling towards Draco’s place on the bed.  “I hardly find this fair.  I’m down to my pants and you’ve still got all your clothes on.”

It took all of Draco’s courage to say, “Well, you said you’d take them off for me.”

“I did, didn’t I?”  He had this gleam in his eye that let Draco know he was in trouble.  ‘Trouble,’ in this case, means he’s about to become putty in Potter’s hands.  It’s like death by foreplay.  Maybe he doesn’t mind so much.

While Potter’s fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt, his mouth roamed the smooth, pale stretch of neck he made sure to expose.  Moaning was inevitable.  Potter savored each newly revealed inch of his skin with light nips, kisses, and the most sensual licks.  He didn’t stop until he’d reached the end of Draco’s buttons.  “Get up. I want to pull the sleeves off.”

If there was one thing Draco loved more than getting what he wanted, it was being ordered around in bed.  He couldn’t resist anymore.  “Spank me. Please.”

“Only if you finish stripping in the next fifteen seconds.”  Draco would’ve opened his mouth to protest, but it would’ve wasted precious time.

_Why did I chose today to wear my arse-hugging trousers?_   He whined as his hands brushed over the part where so much blood had rushed.

“Five, four, three, two –”  Right on time.  He was starkers in Potter’s lap.

The first slap came without warning.  “You’re getting fifteen spanks.  Fourteen for each day you spent avoiding me and one for bolting after kissing me.  Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Sir.”  _No complaints here._

It ended all too soon, leaving Draco _aching_ to be fucked. 

“You did it so I’d punish you, didn’t you?” Potter mused.  “Leaving me standing there with all of my new purchases?”  He draws circles on Draco’s left arse cheek with a fingertip.

It tickles.  Even more, it makes him clench to inch the finger closer to where he needs it to be. He’s past desperate. “Yes, please.  Whatever you say.  Just fuck me.  Please.”

“You’re so cute when you don’t care about dignified.  I like you this way.”  He continues his inkless doodle.  It’s _tortuous._

Instead of making soft mewling sounds, which ordinarily, Draco would do, he just growls.  They’re already here.  Potter wants him just as badly as he does.  Right now, his sexual frustration is just a bit more intense than his shyness about the crush.  That means, he does not feel like being teased.  “Fine.  If you’re not going to do it, I’ll do it myself.  Harry Potter, I’m going to fuck myself on your cock.”

Draco mutters out a few spells that are simple enough to be performed wandlessly.  Potter’s too shocked to reply.  _Good.  You’re hotter when you’re silent._   He yanks the boxers off swiftly, careful not to rip them, and sits right in Potter’s lap.  He doesn’t even take the time to marvel at Potter’s dick in all its naked glory.

What happens next is their business.  It’s safe to assume that they’re rightfully pleased afterwards. Of course, there’s a bit of arching, lots of kissing, biting, and plenty of hip movements.  Both of them have been left with bruises and scratches, which are nothing if not happy reminders of what they have just done.

When Draco’s lying there, snuggled in Potter’s perfect arms (because _of course_ they _have_ to be perfect), he whispers happily into smooth tan skin, “I’m such an idiot.”

Harry nuzzles his hair, “You were.  Not anymore, unless this is just a one time thing for you.” He pauses.  “Which I hope it isn’t.”

“Then, I’m not.  But, you are for even thinking of that.”  He pokes Potter in the ribs for the comment.

“Well, consider me a happy idiot.”

Draco does so, gladly.

Later, when they’re still cuddling, Draco smiles to himself.  _Maybe crushing on Potter was a good thing.  It got me here, didn’t it?  And this, here, is so much better than daydreaming._ Now he knows how sweet those lips are, how soft that nest of raven hair is, how fantastic Potter feels hitting _that_ spot and blood is rushing south again.

_For fuck’s_ \---Something hard presses against his left thigh.

Apparently, Harry reciprocates his current sentiments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
